Billiards Is Fun!
by Judanim
Summary: Team Free Will goes to hustle them some pool, and they encounter a surprising pair of opponents. Hijinks ensue. Possibly a crack!fic.


Author's Note: Oh, hullo! So, um, here's the thing. Tumblr and nostalgia are pretty much to blame for this. This is also my first story for both SPN and D&J, so I apologize in advance to both fandoms. Just enjoy it and don't ask questions. Spoilers for the end of Season 8, this fic also ignores the existence of Season 9, just for convenience's sake.

Warnings/Pairings: Hey ya'll, this does contain SLASH of the Drake/Josh and Sam/Dean/Cas (Wincestiel, whoo!) varieties. If you don't like it, there's a back button. Also contains meta references and random angst. Some people prefer to be warned about the last two for some reason. Shrug.

**Billiards Is Fun!**  
A _Supernatural_/_Drake & Josh_ Crack!Crossover

"I don't understand Dean. What is it that you're looking for?" Castiel asked the driver of the Impala. "You said you wanted to stop for a drink, and we've passed at least three bars since."

"Not the right ones," Dean said, his eyes focused on the road.

Sam turned to Castiel, twisting uncomfortably in his seat to do so. "Dean has this system where he thinks he can pick the perfect bar for hustling pool."

Dean held up a hand. "Have I ever been wrong?"

His younger brother gave him the almighty Sam Winchester bitch-face. "Yeah. More times than I can count."

"Yeah right," Dean muttered. He returned Sam's sour look. "But this time's different. We've got our lucky charm with us."

Now Castiel was really confused. "Are you implying that I bring you good luck?"

Dean didn't seem to catch the incredulity in his tone. "Of course. Or at the very least you're the reason either of us is still breathing."

The ex-angel contemplated the buttons on his trench coat, trying to work out Dean's logic (which, really, no one should ever try doing for either of the Winchesters). "But I'm—"

"You're still you, Cas. And that means you're our good luck charm," Dean said, cutting him off before he could launch into a tirade of self-defeat.

Castiel felt more than saw one of Sam's big hands find his in the darkness of the car, fingers intertwining automatically. That combined with a smile from Dean in the rear view mirror was enough to reassure him.

The bar Dean finally picked was smoky and dimly lit, just like any other bar they'd ever visited. Castiel really couldn't see what was so special about this place. He said as much to the brothers, and the look Sam gave him confirmed that he was not alone in this.

After settling down at a table with three bottles of beer and three burgers on order (well, two burgers and a salad), Castiel did take notice of something odd. In the corner of the bar was the typical billiard table, but two of the players were anything but. One was shorter, perhaps a couple inches shorter than Castiel, with short, flame-red hair, wearing blue jeans and a T-shirt that both looked a size too small and fiddling with a guitar pick while he waited for his turn. The other was a few inches taller than his companion, with dark wavy hair and pale skin, also wearing a better-fitting shirt bearing a logo Castiel was sure Sam could identify.

But it wasn't about their clothes or their looks. They just… didn't seem to fit in at this sort of place. They were too bright in the dim gloom that pervaded the bar (and Sam and Dean's life in general). They played against two tough-looking guys in leather jackets, who seemed to realize what Castiel had.

"What do you think?" Dean asked Sam while the ex-angel was contemplating.

The taller man shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, they're losing, but it looks too calculated. Maybe someone else beat us to the punch?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Everyone who plays pool is out to win. People like us are just crafty about it. I say we can take 'em."

Castiel returned to the conversation then, and he realized quickly where it was going. "Um Dean…"

But the older Winchester hadn't heard him, and he was already standing up, making his way towards the billiard table.

Sam sat back for a moment, watching Dean approach the four players and turn on the charm. He looked at Castiel. "Are you all right Cas?"

"I'm not sure," Castiel said. He narrowed his eyes, tilting his head just so to the right, still trying to wrap his brain around the strange pair. He might have lost his Grace, but he had been left with what humans called a heightened sixth sense. "Something is not right about them. I think playing them is a bad idea."

"Technically playing anyone who knows the game as well as you do is a bad idea." Sam finished off his beer and stood up, making to follow his brother. "But Dean was right. We've got an advantage that they don't. We've got you."

"I still don't understand that," Castiel said, though he stood as well. Wherever the Winchesters wilst go, so he would follow, wherever it may lead him.

Sam put a hand on his shoulder. "You'll see."

Drake watched his brother Josh line up a shot and proceed to royally fuck it up. He worried for a second that it looked a little too smooth, that Josh's frustration would come across as insincere. Then again, they'd been screwing up perfectly good shots all night; it was a little late for their opponents to be suspicious now.

One of said opponents, a nasty-looking dude in a black leather jacket adorned with the stereotypical chains and studs, sank the last two solid balls on the table. "Looks like you guys lose again. Maybe you should go back home before mommy and daddy realize you're out past curfew."

Neither Josh or Drake reacted to the comment; they'd been doing this long enough the snide remarks didn't faze them anymore. Drake opened his mouth to start in on his last-ditch, all-or-nothing speech, another man walked up to the table.

He was at least five years older than them, though there was something in his green eyes that said he'd seen far more than that, and taller by a bit, with short, light brown hair. He wore a worn-looking leather jacket and jeans that were frayed at the edges. "Warrior" was the word that came to Drake's mind, but he had no idea what prompted it.

"You guys mind if my brother and I play a round?" he asked, and Drake recognized the smile that he gave. The smile of a con man expecting to clean house.

Drake had to fight a smirk and looked at Josh. Yeah, this dude was going down. "Sure man."

"I'm surprised you losers have any cash left," the biker said.

Josh surprised him by quipping, "I'm sure we'll come up with something."

Indeed, Drake laid one of their last twenty dollar bills on the table. The stranger matched it with a smug smirk.

"I'm Dean by the way," he said, picking up the biker's cue. He looked up as two more guys—one shorter and one taller, both somehow physically imposing—walked up. "My brother Sam."

Sam, the taller one, waved and circled the table, looking a little worried as he took up the spare cue. Yeah, that wasn't feigned or anything, Drake thought with a small snort.

Dean's ears must've been sharp, because he didn't miss it. "Oh don't worry. I know he looks big and clumsy, but he's like Hendrix with a stick."

That earned him an eye roll from all parties involved. Drake glanced over at the third, unnamed man, who couldn't seem to stop himself from staring at him and Josh. "So who does that make you?"

"That's Cas," Dean said like that explained everything.

This "Cas" at least had the deceny to standing a comfortable distance from the pool table. Drake shook his head before introducing himself and his own brother.

Dean acknowledged them with a nod. "All right. Let's do this."

Two hours and several games later, the forty bucks lay untouched on the corner of the pool table. Drake and Josh had won the first game, but then Dean and Sam gave as good as they got on the next round. And so it went back and forth, the games gradually getting shorter and shorter as Sam and Josh revealed their true prowess with the sport.

Dean at this point had stopped caring about the money. He stood next to Castiel, beer in hand, appreciating the skill of the players and the free excuse to stare at Sam's ass. Drake mirrored him across the table, though his eyes were drawn to his own partner.

"I have a bad feeling about this Dean," Castiel said in an undertone. "These two men are not normal."

"Neither are we Cas," Dean said, giving him an odd look.

Castiel tried to find the words to explain what he meant, but seeing as he really didn't know what he meant in the first place, he gave up, crossing his arms and watching the rounds with extra scrutiny.

Meanwhile Sam and Josh were bantering back and forth, never breaking concentration.

"Where'd you learn to play?" Sam asked.

Josh shrugged before taking a shot. "I didn't really. I'm just good with geometry. You?"

"My dad taught my brother and me how to play when we were young, but I didn't get good until high school." The younger Winchester lined up his cue, staring down the damned eight-ball. "No offense, but you're not the type we usually see. So I'm kind of wondering what brings you to a place like this."

"None taken. We get that a lot." Sam's shot missed the eight-ball, but he did manage to get all but one of his stripes, so Josh tried for it. "Pool sharking wasn't exactly my first career choice, but when Mom and Dad stop footing your tuition, shit happens."

Sam raised an eyebrow, watching. "True." He was quiet for a moment, but the discrepancy in the story was too much for his curiosity. "I don't mean to pry, but why'd they stop paying? I mean, if they were good enough parents to pay your way through school in the first place, it had to be something serious."

Josh cleared the table and immediately started setting up another game. "Apparently some people take issue when their son starts dating his stepbrother."

Taken aback by the boy's honesty, Sam ended up giving a confession of his own. "At least you're not dating your actual brother."

The sound of the first break causes Sam to actually look at Josh, who looked less surprised than he thought he would. "To your parents it's the same thing. How'd yours take it?"

For the first time all night Sam was uncomfortable. "They both died before we got together, though I'm sure Dad saw it all. I was puppy-eyed for Dean right up until the day I left for Stanford."

Josh nodded. "My high school girlfriend saw it before I did." He glanced over to Dean and Castiel "So how does he fit into it all?"

Sam looked at his brother and the ex-angel through hooded eyes, pretending to be focused on lining up his shot. "He's Cas," he found himself replying, tone similar to Dean's from earlier.

When he pulled himself upright, a striped ball landing in two diagonally opposite corners in a shot that should've been impossible, Sam noticed Dean staring back at him mouthing, "What are you doing?" He only shrugged.

"He seems a bit off, but you guys do look good together," Josh said, his voice completely casual, like everyday he met pairs of brothers with incestuous and polyamorous tendencies.

"Cas grew up sheltered, you know? His people skills aren't exactly up to par," Sam said. It wasn't a lie per se. He happened to glance over to Drake, whose brown eyes were intent on Josh, a look Sam knew all too well. "Same to you guys. Screw what your parents think. If you're happy, you're happy."

The dark-haired boy smiled. "That's the plan. At least our little sister Megan doesn't hate us. She sends a Christmas card to our P.O. box every year filled with love and cash. I still have no idea where she gets the money."

Sam smiled. "That sounds nice." He mused on the idea, thinking that if Bobby had had the spare cash, he probably would've done the same for them. A pang of regret hit him, as another game drew to a close.

Suddenly Dean and Castiel approached the table, though Cas looked confused as ever. Drake looked alarmed and quickly joined them, taking up his place at Josh's side before Dean and Cas had made it all the way over. Even Josh was surprised.

"Relax Weasley," Dean said to Drake.

"Did you just—" Sam and Josh said, stopping when they realized they'd said it at the same time.

Dean ignored them. "Look, I think we all can agree that we've got two billiard geniuses here, and nobody's going to win so long as they're going back and forth. And I'm not really interested in being here all night."

"I don't mind," Sam said quietly.

Josh shuffled, suddenly looking like an awkward teenager. "Me neither. I mean the company's good, the beer's good…"

Drake nudged his brother, muttering something about how little money they had left. He turned back to Dean and said, "So what do you want to do about it?"

The older Winchester grinned, like he'd been just waiting for an opportunity to play this trump card, which he had. Sure Josh's matching Sam's skill hadn't been in the plan, but it worked out pretty much the same. "Double or nothing, you versus him," he said, pointing to Drake and Castiel.

The ex-angel looked up sharply. "Dean I've never played before. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Well now I know that I certainly want to," Drake said.

Josh narrowed his eyes and tried to whisper something to Drake, but the shorter boy dismissed him with a wave that said, _We've got this._

Sam just watched with amusement. If Dean hadn't saved the world a dozen times, he'd do well as a con man, if only because he'd have more time to devote to it.

"You'll be fine Cas. I trust you," Dean said with a wink.

And with that, Castiel picked up a pool cue, and Drake racked up the balls. He also broke, Castiel watching with trepidation each ball ricochet off each other and the sides of the table and roll to a stop.

Across the table, Sam gave him an encouraging look, a mirror to Dean's face beside him, and suddenly the ex-angel understood the Winchesters' plan. Castiel looked at the table with fresh eyes and asked, "Am I solids or stripes?"

"Stripes," Drake said, wearing a cocky smirk that would not have looked out of place on Dean's face.

Castiel nodded. He circled the table like a predator circling his prey and proceeded to sink three striped balls into two different pockets, and then he turned back to Drake. "That was okay, right?"

Drake's eyes were bugging out of his head. "Yeah," he croaked. "That's perfectly fine."

Dean was grinning, the proud grin of a man whose expectations have been exceeded, while Sam was hiding his face, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. Josh was shooting Drake an expectant look, like he knew this was precisely what was going to happen.

The game continued predictably. Drake was a decent player, but his confidence was shattered, and so he kept missing easy shots and making rookie mistakes. Castiel, meanwhile, wiped the floor with him, like he was a dirty mop (Dean's words, not his). When all was said and done, Sam was pocketing eighty dollars, and Cas was promised shotgun of the Impala.

All things considered Drake and Josh were taking the loss well. Neither got mad or begged for a do-over or anything ridiculous like that. Sure Drake ordered another beer and wouldn't speak to anyone, while Josh looked sullenly at the thinness of his wallet, but other than that they seemed fine.

"You all right?" Sam asked Josh (after he paid for Drake's second round of drinks).

"That was well-played," was all Josh said, and it was mostly to his beer bottle.

"To be fair, I didn't know it would work that well. Cas wasn't lying—this was the first time he's ever played," Sam said, trying to be consoling. He liked the kid, and he didn't want something as stupid as pool to get between them.

Josh looked up, an eyebrow raised. "He's a quick learner huh?"

The taller man nodded, smiling just a bit. "Good with angles too. I mean, three not-small guys in one bed? Someone has to be."

They both laughed, and Josh seemed himself again, so they sat down with Drake and enjoyed the beer on Sam's tab. Dean and Castiel joined them, and Dean ordered burgers for everyone. Sam would've argued with him, but he decided he was rather famished after all the games.

One of the bikers Drake and Josh had been playing earlier came up after the burgers arrived, interrupting a story Drake was telling through a mouthful of fries.

"You were conning us the whole time," he said, giving Josh a death glare.

Dean sat up straighter and turned to face the dude. "Hey you got your money, now move on."

Biker Man leered and tried to stare the older Winchester down, but Dean had certainly faced worse. "Call me old-fashioned, but I like to win fair and square." He looked back to Drake and Josh. "One more round, everything on the table, and you don't hold anything back."

Josh swallowed hard and nodded reluctantly. "Yeah okay. Let me just—"

"Wait a second," Dean said. He exchanged a glance with Drake and Sam, who could tell where he was going with this almost instantly. "You want a no-holds-barred game? Play against Josh and Sam here. They're the masters."

"No way. I'm not that dumb. These two are the ones who conned us; they're the ones we're going to play," Biker Man said.

Sam couldn't help himself. "When you played them, they didn't have backup. Now they do. So you're getting me and him."

Drake smirked. "Look at the bright side. At least we're not making you play him." He pointed to Cas.

Biker Man huffed but went over to the billiard table without further complaint. Josh and Sam followed him, both grinning like cocky assholes. Drake leaned back in his chair, smiling with relief.

"Thanks man. We owe you one," he said to Dean.

Dean shrugged casually. "Thank Sam. I got all my hero instincts from him."

"Which you later taught back to him after he'd gone off the moral path," Castiel said. Only two empty beer bottles sat in front of him, but he was drunk. Without his Grace he turned out to be a lightweight, something Dean and Sam derived an unhealthy amount of amusement from.

The redhead raised an eyebrow, but Dean shook his head, telling him it was best not to question Cas' statement. "Still. We'll split the winnings with you sixty-forty."

"Seventy-thirty, considering we cleaned you out earlier," Dean said. "We're not thieves. Most of the time."

Castiel suddenly gave Drake a piercing look, or his inebriated version of piercing at any rate. "I get it now, why you two seemed so odd to me. You're not from here."

The two Ds exchanged a glance, the elder shrugging, for once at a loss to explain Cas' behavior. Not that it was the first time, just the first in a long while.

"You got me. We're from San Diego," Drake said after a moment of deliberation.

The ex-angel shook his head, his words slurring even more afterwards. "That's not what I meant. You aren't from here, as in this dimension, not originally. Your home world doesn't have magic or angels or demons or anything supernatural. It's kind of a sad existence, though I imagine it's a lot funnier than ours. Or perhaps the same amount of humor, just of a different kind."

"He's trashed, isn't he?" Drake asked.

Dean took a swig of beer himself. "Absolutely."

The look on Drake's face said that it was much too quick an answer for him to swallow, but he didn't comment; he merely downed more alcohol.

The sound of frustrated yelling put their attention back to the game. It looked like Biker Man and his buddy had lost (no surprise there) and were about to attempt to take it out of Sam and Josh's asses. Josh was cowering behind Sam's much taller form, who didn't budge even when one of the punks got in his face. Dean felt a surge of pride at the same time that he wanted to rush over and defend his brother. Castiel was already up and doing that for him, bless his heart. And then Dean realized that this was drunk Castiel going to "defend" Sam from a couple of much bigger dudes. With a sigh he stood up, Drake reluctantly trailing behind him.

"Look, you lost fair and square, just like you wanted. Leave the money and go," Castiel was saying.

Biker Man scoffed. "Oh look, the little nerd is trying to play tough guy. How adorable." He tried to put the intimidating moves on him, but Sam's arm shot out to keep him from moving an inch.

"I would do what the man says. You really don't want to get on our bad side," Sam said, his face deadly serious, a little too close to his soulless self for Dean's comfort.

"I'm not afraid of you Gigantor," Biker Man said and proceeded to do the dumbest thing ever; he pushed Sam.

And just like that a fight broke out. The other patrons of the bar wisely took cover, while the bartender tried to put a stop to the nonsense. In the chaos Drake swiped the money from the corner of the pool table and made for the exit. Josh was just behind him, until Biker Man's friend hauled him back into the fray from behind. Dean saw Drake shift on his feet, clearly debating staying or going, before he grit his teeth and threw his lot in with theirs.

Many punches, kicks, and bruises later, the five were outside the bar, sitting on the hood of the Impala and enduring the passing glares of Biker Man and Co., who had also been kicked out of the fine establishment.

"Here," Drake said, handing Dean his share of the winnings and openly wincing at having to bend his bruised knuckles.

Dean nodded as he accepted the money—which, judging from the denomination and number of bills, had to add up to at least a hundred bucks. "Thanks. Sorry about the mess."

Josh smiled despite his split lip. "Are you kidding? That was awesome. It was like being a kid again, when Drake would get me into all kinds of trouble. We should do it again."

Drake shook his head, shooting his step-brother a look. "I thought you hated all those shenanigans."

"Then, yeah I did. In hindsight they were character-building. Fun even," Josh said, sticking out his tongue playfully at his step-brother.

Castiel looked at them, eyebrow raised, from around Sam, who was patching up a cut above his eye. "You two have strange ideas about fun."

"No stranger than ours," Sam said with a smirk. He finished bandaging Cas' cut and turned round to face the others. "But you're right about one thing. We should do this again, minus the fight."

"Or with, doesn't matter," Dean interjected.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Preferably without. I think we could make a great team."

Drake and Josh exchanged a glance. The former shrugged. "Sounds good. Having backup would be nice, especially if it's you guys. Seriously Sam, how did you make it out of there without a scratch?"

Dean smirked. "He's what you call a combat pragmatist. But yeah, just call us the next time you're ready to hustle. If we're nearby, we'll swing in and save you."

"'Nearby'? You guys aren't from around here?" Josh asked.

The younger Winchester shook his head. "Nope. The road is our home. One of the perks of the job."

"Traveling salesmen," Castiel said, though the lie sounded awkward coming from him.

And Josh didn't look like he believed it for a second. At least he was courteous enough not to make mention of it. "Well, that sounds good. I say let's do it."

They exchanged cell numbers, with Sam giving Josh fair warning that theirs might change at random intervals. The dark-haired boy only nodded, smart enough not to question it, though Drake shot him an odd look all the same.

With a smile, a wave, and a snarky comment from Dean, the younger pair climbed into an old, beat-up Volkswagen Beetle and drove off into the night.

"Back to the bunker?" Sam asked once they were gone.

Dean checked his phone for the time. "I think there's a motel nearby, now that we've got some spare cash. We'll get back in the morning."

"I'll let Kevin know, so he doesn't stay up all night worrying," Sam said, already on his phone and sending a text.

Castiel was still watching the road Drake and Josh had left by. "I hope they stay in our dimension. They're nice."

"Wait, you were serious about that?" Dean asked.

"Of course," Castiel said, looking a bit offended that Dean hadn't taken him seriously. "My inebriation is independent of my powers of deduction. At least I think it is."

"All right, all right, Sherlock. I believe you." Dean threw an arm around his shoulders, squeezing for a brief moment, before heading to the driver's side door.

Sam took his hand and pulled him to the passenger side. "Come on. You've got shotgun, remember?" He climbed in the Impala first, somehow managing to fit his tall form into the cramped backseat.

Castiel lingered a moment longer, staring at the road, before getting into the car. "Billiards is fun," he said for no particular reason, once he was inside.

Dean smiled that mysterious smile that only Cas seemed able to provoke from him. "Yeah it is."

With that the Impala roared to life, and they took off down the road, nearly two hundred bucks richer and with two new people they could call friends. They chalked it up as a win.

END


End file.
